Chapter 16 #2
“Yeah, it would take a major fuck-up to drop the ball at this stage of this game.” He grabs his jacket and then hesitates. “Although Elliot seems to know things he shouldn’t.”
“Like?” I arch a brow.
“Nothing concrete. Just whispers of conversations no one remembers having near him. Timing on decisions that haven’t been announced yet.” He shrugs his jacket on, but his gaze doesn’t shift. “And he’s watching Violet.”
My spine stiffens. “What does that mean?”
Austen exhales, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I guess, just that we can’t afford to let our guard down.”
“I never do.”
“Or let personal feelings cloud our judgement.”
I hold his gaze. “Are you going to keep talking in riddles, or are you actually going to say what you mean?”
He lifts a shoulder, playing it off like it’s nothing. “Just an observation.” He claps me on the arm, then heads for the door, tossing a final look over his shoulder. “Good night, Chase.”
I watch him go, unease creeping up my spine. Austen has sharp instincts. But I’m always vigilant. He should know that.
But for now, I force it out of my mind.
Because there’s someone else who needs my attention. Someone who needs my best persuasion skills.
I grab a bottle of wine from the bar—making sure it’s the most expensive one—and two glasses, then head toward Violet’s lodge.
There is a chill in the night air, the scent of pine, and lingering smoke curling through the trees.
I follow the winding path, my heart pounding with each step in a way that’s foreign to me.
I’m not usually the one left standing, waiting, hoping.
Women typically come to me. The glow of a lamp flickers through the window, and I can just make out Violet’s silhouette stacking wood at the fireplace.
I knock twice, and after a moment, the door swings open. Violet stands there, her hair loose around her shoulders. She’s so fucking beautiful it almost hurts, a strange kind of pain that makes no sense to me. Her green eyes flick over me before dropping to the wine bottle.
Her lips curve as she takes the glasses. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
I smirk. “Does that mean I can come in? I promise not to smile.”
She rolls her eyes but steps back, letting me inside.
I close the door behind me, the warmth of the room settling over my shoulders. A small stack of wood sits untouched by the fireplace, and I glance at her. “You planning on actually lighting that or just looking at it?”
She exhales. “Apparently, I suck at making fires.”
I snicker, rolling up my sleeves. “Lucky for you, I don’t.
” I crouch in front of the hearth, arranging the logs properly.
“My grandma taught me on a camping trip when I was a kid. Said”—I drop into my best Brooklyn accent—“knowing how to build a fire is a skill every man oughta have. I guess she came from a time when stuff like that was important.”
Violet smiles, crossing her legs to sit on the floor next to me. “She sounds like a wise woman.”
“She was.” I strike a match, letting the flame catch. “She had to be. She raised me.” I flash her a half-smile to lighten the mood, prodding the logs. Tiny embers burst free, glowing orange as they swirl upward, like fireflies set loose in the night.
A beat of silence stretches between us. Then, softly, she asks, “She’s gone now?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I keep my eyes on the fire, letting the warmth settle between us. Reaching for the wine, I uncork the bottle and pour two glasses, handing one to her.
Violet takes a slow sip of her wine, her gaze on the fire as it crackles to life.
“That’s how people live on, you know. All the little things they teach us, all the parts of us they hand down.
Mom used to say I got my stubborn streak from her, so at least she’d always have someone to argue with—even when she wasn’t around. ”
Before I even think about it, I ask, “That why your sister lives with you?”
She doesn’t look surprised by the question, just nods. “Yeah. Our mom died a couple of years ago.”
She says it so matter-of-factly, like she’s telling me it rained yesterday. Not in a way that invites sympathy—she doesn’t want that, I get that. It’s more like talking about her keeps her here, keeps her real.
I pour myself a glass of wine, letting that settle. “And your dad?”
She shrugs, taking another sip. “Not in the picture.”
I keep quiet, but any man that knows Violet and doesn’t want her in their life is a fucking idiot and is not worthy of one second of her time, but I can see it hurts her, and I hate that.
Hate that I can’t protect her from that.
I don’t want her to feel even one ounce of pain.
But I don’t pry further. I sense she doesn’t want to talk about it.
Instead, I lift my glass, tipping it toward her.
“To the women who raised us.”
Something warm flickers in her eyes as she touches her glass to mine. “I’ll drink to that.”
We lie sideways, facing each other, our heads propped on our hands, chatting easily as we polish off the wine.
It feels natural to hang out. When you take away the boardroom dynamic, office politics, and company hierarchy, I love how relaxed Violet becomes in my company.
Usually, she has her door half open, ready to slam it shut on me at any given moment.
I’m so caught up memorizing every nuance of her face—the way her eyes light up, the way she waves her hands when she’s excited—that I don’t even realize I haven’t heard a word she’s said for the last couple of minutes. For all I know, she could have been reciting the company’s terms and conditions.
But then she says something that lands like a punch to the gut.
“You know, I almost didn’t join Knightwell,” Violet muses, swirling her wine.
“I’d been applying for jobs in London. It’s always been my dream to live there—not forever, just to experience something else.
I even found a job, but then Mom got sick, so I put it on hold. But I still want to do it one day.”
“Nice to know that Knightwell was your backup,” I feign nonchalance, ignoring how my stomach tightens at the thought of her leaving.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” She shakes her head, a small crease forming between her brows. “Knightwell was the better choice for my career, but I wanted an adventure, to see the world.”
“Well, I’m glad you came to me,” I say, quieter than intended. My gaze dips to her red-wine-stained lips before meeting her eyes again. Silence settles between us, thick and charged. The fire flickers, making shadows dance across her face, the crackle of the flames filling the quiet.
“Can I ask you a question?” Violet murmurs, her gentle voice pulling me out of the stupor.
“Of course.”
“Did you ask for a security light to be fitted at my apartment block?” She looks down, unsure, a trace of embarrassment crossing her face. “No, actually, sorry, just ignore that. I mean, what a stupid question. Why would you even do....”
“I did,” I interrupt, my tone steadfast. “It wasn’t safe.”
“Thank you,” she breathes, her eyes brimming with a tenderness that makes my pulse skip,
Suddenly, the small gap between us seems like a vast ocean.
My body hums as I take the wineglass from her hand, place it to the side, and pull her into me.
I lick my thumb, skating it along her lower lip, wiping away the red wine, my other hand caressing her face.
Her eyelashes flutter, and she lets out a warm sigh when I brush my lips over hers, our tongues melting together.
I lose track of time as we taste each other, our bodies grinding together as our kiss turns desperate.
Drawing in deep breaths, I break the kiss, resting my forehead on hers, my thumb hooking over her bottom lip, feeling the bite of her teeth scrape against my skin. “Fuck, Violet, I need you, right fucking now.”
I trail my fingers down her body, tugging at the hem of her top, teasing rather than removing, my knuckles grazing the heated skin beneath.
I take my time, letting the tension coil tighter, watching the way her breath shudders when I skim over sensitive flesh.
Every inch of fabric peeled away has her gasping, her body arching into my touch.
I drag my fingers between her thighs, delving into her wetness, teasing, tormenting, savoring the way her nipples tighten under my palm.
The fire hisses, the light dancing over her body as I lay her out before me, spreading her open, my tongue dipping down to feast on her swollen clit until she’s thrashing, her fevered moans punctuating each lick.
She props up on her elbows, chest heaving when I pause to yank off my t-shirt and shove my pants down.
My hard cock slaps against my tight abs, twitching with anticipation when her wide-eyed gaze locks onto it.
Slowly, I wrap my fist around the base, stroking once, twice, my voice deep and rough.
“Is this what you want, Violet?” She just stares, eyes molten with lust, transfixed by the way my fist moves up and down my shaft in a steady rhythm.
I jump to my feet, reaching my hand out. She laces her fingers in mine as I pull her up and lead her to the couch, placing her between my legs as I fall back.
I lick my lips as I look up at her full breasts jutting out, her pink nipples taunting me like the sweetest berries.
“Now be a good girl and play with your nipples, Violet,” I rasp, an animalistic growl rumbling in my throat as she sucks her finger before circling her nipples, her eyes locked on mine, biting her lips, willing me to crack.
I caress her hips and ass, spreading her pussy lips open with a groan to feel her slickness.
I press my finger in and out, circling her tight clit until she caves first, dropping to her knees, moving in between my thighs.